by Pat Warren
Although Josh was reluctant to stay up north without his mother, Tate had managed to tell him in such a way that he accepted her decision. Fortunately he was an adaptable kid and remembered staying at Aunt Helen and Uncle Joe’s ranch a while back where he’d enjoyed the horses and helping out in the garden.
Tate had hurriedly packed his things, letting Josh choose what he wanted to take, like the raggedy blanket he sometimes slept with, his Pokémon collection and, of course, Ralph. When Nick was certain they weren’t being observed, he’d bundled the two of them into the Ford along with Josh’s belongings and Ralph. They’d started out at nine and now had another hour to go.
Glancing over at Tate, Nick saw that she was holding herself tightly in check, staring out the windshield unseeingly, her arms wrapped around herself protectively. She was too quiet, too tense, almost robotlike and had been ever since they’d heard the bomb report. He couldn’t blame her, but her state of mind worried him. After they dropped Josh off, he’d work on easing her mind.
“It’s Barkley, right? Your aunt and uncle. Helen and Joe Barkley, didn’t you say?” he asked, trying to draw her out.
She knew what he was doing, trying to penetrate the icy fear that clutched at her. If only he could. “Yes.”
“Is it a horse ranch they own, or cattle?”
“Both.”
“Do you know how to get there once we reach St. Johns?” She’d told him the ranch was almost to the eastern border of Arizona just before New Mexico.
“Yes, I know the way.” Please, she prayed, let him leave me alone. Doesn’t he know that if I let myself think, I’ll fall apart and I can’t do that in front of Josh?
Nick recognized the barely suppressed emotion in her voice and decided that leaving her to her thoughts might be better. They rode the rest of the way in silence, through the flat countryside. Nick had never been up this way and he had to admit the widely spaced ranches afforded a great deal of privacy. Acre after acre of farms and grazing land where cattle lay in grassy fields and corrals fenced in a variety of quarter horses. It was quiet and peaceful. A man could get away from the stress of city life with its crime and traffic and myriad other problems up here, Nick thought. He’d always been an urban creature but he had to admit, the country had its own appeal.
Tate stared out the window, but saw nothing, her thoughts turned inward, her nerves stretched tight as rubber bands. She and Josh had spent nearly two years here once upon a time, and it had been a fairly uncomplicated interlude. But that’s all it had been, an interlude, a break in the norm, unreal. Even if her father hadn’t died, she’d have had to go back sooner or later. She couldn’t live like that, in hiding. It wasn’t fair to Josh.
She loved the country, but to visit, not to live in. She wanted close schools, museums, nearby bookstores for herself and for her son. But most of all, she wanted to be free, to come and go as she pleased, without fear. Would that day ever come? Tate wondered.
The Barkley spread was substantial with two barns, several outbuildings and the farmhouse two stories high, white clapboard with a wraparound porch. Lights were on downstairs as Nick pulled up in front, noticing that it was exactly midnight.
Helen Barkley came down the front steps to greet them, a tall slender woman with auburn hair lightly streaked with white that she didn’t bother tinting. Still an attractive woman, her warm green eyes were welcoming as she hustled them inside. Nick could see that Tate had inherited Helen’s good looks, thinking that in twenty years, she’d look very much like her aunt at fifty.
Tate hurriedly introduced Helen and Nick as he took Josh from the back seat and hefted him in his arms. The boy didn’t stir.
“I’ve got the bedroom next to ours all made up for Josh,” Helen said, leading the way upstairs as Nick carried the sleeping boy, Tate following with Josh’s small bag. A subdued Ralph trotted alongside.
Nick laid the boy on the single bed and tugged off his shoes, then stepped back while Tate removed his jeans and tucked the covers around him. “No use waking him to put on pajamas,” she commented, smoothing back Josh’s hair.
“He won’t wake up frightened, will he?” Helen asked.
“No. I explained everything to him.” Well, almost everything.
Just then, Josh opened his eyes, looked a little disoriented, then spotted his mother. “Are we here?”
“Yes, honey.” Tate leaned down, kissed the downy soft cheek and hugged her son to her as an emotional wave engulfed her. She’d never spent a night without him since he was born. “Nick and I have to leave, but Aunt Helen and Uncle Joe are in the room next door. Okay?”
“Okay, Mom.” He waited until his mother stood, then in a gesture that surprised everyone in the room, held out his arms to Nick.
“So long, sport,” Nick told him, moved that the boy would want to hug him. “Remember, we’ll be back for you as soon as we can.”
“I know. Bye.” Curling up with his blanket, he closed his eyes.
Tate saw that Helen had left a night-light on. She patted Ralph’s head as he jumped up on the foot of the bed. “You take good care of him for me, Ralph,” she whispered, then followed Helen and Nick downstairs.
“Are you two hungry?” Helen asked. “It’s a long drive and…”
“Not for me,” Tate answered. She’d only picked at the chicken dinner earlier and knew she couldn’t swallow a thing even now. But men could always eat, she supposed. “How about you, Nick?”
“I’m fine, thanks.” He gazed around the big living room, spotting some great antiques and wished they were here under better circumstances, for he’d like to look around. “You have a great place here,” he told Helen.
“Thanks.” She followed his gaze as he studied an old clock. “We drive around weekends sometimes and hunt out antiques. You should come back when you have more time.”
“That would be nice.” He glanced at Tate, noting her anxious expression. “We really should get back.”
“Yes, Aunt Helen,” Tate said, her voice husky to her own ears. “I hate to just drop Josh and run, but we both have to work tomorrow and…”
“I understand.” Helen patted Tate’s shoulder as they walked out onto the porch. It was cooler this far north, but not cold, with a night breeze that brought with it the scent of nearby honeysuckle. “Now, don’t you worry about a thing. Joe has his shotgun if anyone comes nosing around, and he’s not afraid to use it. Josh loves it here and we’re so glad to have him. Joe goes to bed early, you know, about eight, on account of he gets up at five. But he’s real excited about having Josh here. And I’ve baked his favorite cinnamon buns. You remember, Tate, how he loves those buns?”
Tears threatening to fall, Tate nodded, then accepted the older woman’s hug. “I hate to have to impose on you again.”
“Now, you stop that. We’re family.” She leaned back, brushed a tear from her niece’s cheek with a weathered hand that had seen a fair amount of work through the years. “You’re both welcome here anytime.” As Tate stepped back, Helen looked up at Nick. “And your young man, too.”
Nick had heard Tate explain the situation to Helen on the phone, but he felt he had to add his own reassurance. “Thank you. This is only temporary. We’re working on getting that man out of Tate’s life for good.” He slipped his arm around Tate’s waist, felt her trembling. “We’ll be back for Josh as soon as this is over.”
Green eyes so like Tate’s studied his face a long moment, then Helen smiled. “No hurry.”
Unwilling to risk talking with her emotions so high, Tate simply nodded, gave her a final hug and got into the Crown Victoria. She saw Nick bend down to hug Helen as well before getting behind the wheel. How easily he’d fit in, hugging Josh, then Helen. He was a man people trusted instinctively, she decided. Through damp lashes, she watched her aunt waving from the porch as they drove off.
“She’s good people,” Nick commented as he swung onto the road. “You resemble her.”
“She’s been more of a mother
to me than my own ever was. They’re twins, both really beautiful. Only my mother used her beauty for her own selfish interests and Aunt Helen downplays hers. So different even though they’re twins.”
“Then you’re like Helen in more than just looks,” he told her, but wasn’t sure the compliment registered. He saw that exhaustion had stroked with a broad brush over her features.
Letting out a ragged sigh, Tate leaned her head back and closed her eyes, wondering if she’d done the right thing. Already she missed Josh terribly. They’d never been apart because no matter how often she’d felt the need to move, to stay one jump ahead of Adam, she’d always taken Josh with her. This time, Nick had convinced her that they needed to flush both Adam and Rafe out, to force them to make a move, and Josh needed to be somewhere safe. The very thought frightened her, but she had to trust Nick on this.
She angled her head to look at him. Concentrating on driving, his hands on the wheel, he was looking straight ahead, his mouth a somewhat grim line. Tate wondered what he was thinking.
He felt her eyes on him and glanced over. He reached to cover her hand with his, needing the contact. “Are you all right?”
No, she wouldn’t be all right until Adam was gone from her life for good and Josh was back with her. But for now, she’d pretend, for his sake, that she was doing fine. “Yes.” She saw him turn his attention back to the road though he left his hand on hers. “Nick?”
“Mmm?”
“Thank you.”
His only answer was to thread his fingers through hers and give her hand a squeeze.
Weary to her very soul, Tate closed her eyes.
Two hours later, Nick had reached a decision. He’d been glancing over at Tate for miles now, making note of when she’d finally given in to fatigue. He’d also noticed what a restless sleep it was, her face moving into a frown, her body language indicating an unhappy dream. Twice she murmured something incoherent, then had almost shouted, “No, don’t!”
There were dark smudges beneath her lovely eyes and her skin was pale. She was undoubtedly drained, not so much physically as mentally and emotionally. The bomb scare and having to be parted from her son for the first time was taking a terrible toll on her. He couldn’t take her back home until she’d truly rested.
Using his car phone, he dialed Maggie’s number, hating to wake her, but he felt it was necessary. She picked up quickly, whispering a groggy hello, even though Nick had instructed her to let the policewoman take the calls. Probably instinct.
“Maggie, it’s Nick. Listen, we dropped Josh off and we’re on our way back.” He spoke softly, not wanting Tate to awaken. “I wanted to tell you that I’m taking Tate to my place for tonight. It’s late and I think she’ll rest better this way. I hope to talk her into missing work tomorrow.”
“That’s a good idea, Nick. She’s all right, then?”
“A little tense, taking a nap right now. Is everything okay over there? No surprises?”
“No surprises. We’re fine. Sally’s a lovely woman.”
“Great. I’ll call you sometime tomorrow.” He pushed the disconnect and stole a glance at Tate. Her head was moving restlessly as she muttered in her sleep. When she started to moan as if frightened, Nick touched her arm. “Tate. Wake up.”
Startled, her head raised. “No, please, no,” she said, her eyes open but unfocused, obviously still back in her dream.
“You’re dreaming,” Nick told her as he turned onto the dirt road leading to his mobile home. It was long and narrow, but he planned to clear more trees, widen and pave it once his house was finished.
He saw that Tate was wide-awake now, looking scared as she shoved both hands through her hair. “Are you all right?” he asked.
She let out a huff of air. “The dream, more of a nightmare, really. It was horrible.” She bent forward, wishing she could erase the mind pictures.
Nick pulled into the carport attached to his double wide trailer, shut off the engine and turned to her. “Tell me about it.”
“I just want to forget it.”
“Damn it, Tate, when will you ever truly trust me?”
She shuddered, her eyes downcast. “We were up on Mount Lemmon and this time it was Adam who dangled someone over the ledge. I couldn’t see who he was holding at first, but I could hear Adam laughing. Then I recognized his victim. It was Josh and he was crying for me, holding his arms out to me.” Her shoulders hunched as she struggled with the memory. “He kept calling Mommy, and I couldn’t reach him.”
Nick reached for her, but she raised her hands, holding him at bay. “No, please. I need to work this out myself. This is my problem, not anyone else’s.” Angrily she swiped at tears wanting to fall.
He sat back, feeling deflated, yet trying to understand. “I know you’ve always handled everything alone. But you’re not alone anymore. Let me help. Let me carry some of this load with you.”
Slowly, she swung around to face him, trying to see his eyes in the dim moonlight coming in through the windshield. “Why?” she asked, her voice hoarse. No man had ever wanted to help before. She was suspicious of such an offer, certain there had to be strings attached. Yet he’d been nothing but kind and caring.
Tate felt confused, lost down an unfamiliar road.
He wasn’t sure how to answer her, wasn’t sure she was ready to hear his reasons, if he could verbalize them. He took her hands, found them icy cold, rubbed them in his. “Let’s get out of the car.”
She looked out the window as if just realizing they’d stopped. “Where are we?”
“At my place. I called Maggie. It’s three in the morning. There’s not much night left, but we’re spending it here.”
“No, I want to go home. I need to go to work. I have to be strong and…”
His mouth took hers, ending her protests. He’d wanted to be gentle, to take care of her, but she kept pushing him away. He could think of only one way to stop her.
At first contact, he felt her stiffen, resisting him or herself, he wasn’t certain which, then slowly she relaxed a little. His arms gathered her closer, tightening his grip. Almost immediately, he felt the heat bubble up from within her. Nick deepened the kiss as desire awakened within him.
He’d kissed her before, Tate thought, his mouth at times hard, almost cruel, yet this time, she found his lips incredibly soft as they coaxed a response from her. His hands were roaming her back, his solid chest pressing into her breasts. She welcomed his touch this time, with no thought to pushing him away. Senses reeling, she forgot everything except the way he made her feel, and kissed him back.
Reality intruded when she felt his fingers move to the front of her blouse to pry open her buttons. Breathing hard, she touched a hand to his chest to put some distance between them while she waited for her brain to clear.
“What are we doing, out here in the middle of the night, in the middle of nowhere?” she asked him.
She was no longer fighting him, Nick noticed, but rather she looked confused and a little stunned. “I can drive you home or you can come inside and we can finish this. Your choice. Go or stay.”
Tate felt her heart lurch. He was leaving it up to her. Was there really a decision to be made? Hadn’t she wanted this man since almost the first day she’d met him?
Forever was not an option with her mixed-up life. But didn’t she deserve some joy, some pleasure? Something to remember during the long, lonely nights alone. Maybe if she at least had some good memories, she could be strong. For Josh and for herself.
“Stay,” she whispered.
Nick climbed out, walked around, opened her door. Still she sat there, looking lost. He took her hand. “Come with me.”
Like an obedient child, she followed him up the two steps and inside where he tossed his keys on the table. He locked the door and bent to her, his mouth taking hers greedily. She responded, as he’d suspected she would, hungrily, avidly, everything forgotten but this man and this moment.
Her arms were around him, her
hands diving into his hair. She moved against him and he thought he’d surely explode.
He couldn’t wait, not this first time. He couldn’t kiss her deeply enough, couldn’t hold her close enough. He was struggling with a sharp, urgent need that threatened to take over. His hands were everywhere, trailing along her rib cage, moving to the front and fumbling with the row of buttons. His mouth never left hers as he all but shoved her slacks off while she toed off her canvas shoes.
Passion rose in Tate like a tidal wave. She was as feverish as he, pushing his jacket from his broad shoulders, then jolting when her hand touched his gun holster. She heard him swear softly against her lips as he worked his way out of the harness and tossed it aside.
“The bedroom,” she murmured, groping along the opening of his shirt, the need to touch his flesh overwhelming.
“Too far,” Nick muttered, knowing he’d never have the patience to make it. Shedding his clothes and hers, he drew her over to the carpeted area in front of his couch. His fingers thrust into her hair, sending the gold clip she’d used to tie it back flying. His knees weakened, so he shifted her to the floor and followed her down, thinking the couch too narrow.
Tate moaned low in her throat as her hands caressed the hair of his chest, then moved to encircle, to stroke his back. She arched as his lips claimed first one breast, then the other, drawing on her flesh deeply. Mind spinning, she pressed his head closer while her hips shifted restlessly.
There was only a hint of illumination drifting in through the slatted blinds, but Nick’s eyes had adjusted to the dimness. He thought she looked incredibly beautiful wearing only streaks of moonlight, her auburn hair spread out on the carpeting, her eyes darkening as her arousal deepened. He’d wanted to go slowly, to treat her like the lady he knew she was, but needs hammered at him. When her clever hands roamed lower and closed around him, he knew he didn’t have much time.